Succumbed By Darkness
by FantasyWisher
Summary: "Darkness has succumbed me and I will soon break free." Ever felt alone? Scared? Pain? Every Divergent character has. Every chapter will be a different topic and there is something for everyone. Sounds better than this summary. Dedicated to everyone who has ever went dark.
1. Darkness

**So I decided to make a poem series and the idea came to me by reading my friend Eternal Midnight Solstice's "When We Are All Gone". This series is going to be all poems about different types of topics like voices, pain, sorrow, isolation and light. This poems are for Divergent but can be applied to the real world and you can get an insight into my mind. Hope you like this and would support me.**

**If you are moved, touched or simply like this poem review, share with a friend and post onto you profile "Darkness has succumbed me and I will soon break free." I will post a saying with each poem. **

I have fallen,

Into a pit of darkness,

Blanketed with misery,

Ribboned with despair,

And tied with sorrow,

Suffocating me,

I'm lost and confused,

I'm not aware of the paths,

Or the choices to make,

It's too dark to see,

Will they accept me and my decisions?

My flaws?

My flaws have caused me to fall,

The vast blackness in the horizon,

Nearing

Calling,

Whispering my name,

It's dense and cold as it consumes,

Yet oddly comforting,

The darkness is accepting,

Not caring for my past,

My mistakes or judgments,

And it is my own,

I am isolated and safe,

Safe from others,

Safe from myself,

I have been succumbed by darkness,

Because I've been welcomed...


	2. Voices

**Dedicated to DivergentDanceFreak my awesome beta reader. **

******If you are moved, touched or simply like this poem review, share with a friend and post onto you profile.**The next quote is: " The voices that taunt me, make me stronger."

When someone tells you that they hear voices, what do you think?

You assume they are crazy. Mentally unstable.

Hearing ghosts, perhaps.

But no one asks

what kind of voices.

They don't need to- we

all

hear them.

Yours; Theirs;

Our own.

We hear the screams of those who judge us,

criticism

pounding

in our ears.

The insults that they give us in _constant repeat,_

a consistent reminder of the

failures

we

are-

The prettiness stripped, the brains not present,

the abnormality clearly seen.

How we can _never_ be good enough;

The voices

echo.

The soft whisper

makes the back hairs of my neck stand up.

I freeze and become stiff.

And then I close my ears and shut my eyes.

But the barrier of my hands won't stop them

from calling.

And I shake and shiver.

Not from the cold.

But the coldness of the words.

And when we ask for help, they just want

to

lock us away.

Isolate us, leaving us to

battle

these voices ourselves.

It's like having weapons but no army.

Weapons being the will to go on.

But lack of support; the vacant army.

I feel the emptiness.

And the voices get worse and the

isolation

goes from involuntary to

self inflicted.

We get away from others so no new voices can

enter.

And they get louder. Stronger.

The voices of the dead, the ones that are gone because of my doing;

The voices of the forgotten, the ones that I have lost along the way-

Their words haunt me.

They

do

not silence.

And I can't refuse to listen.

I keep walking while they trail along, until eventually they

become one with the background noise.

And

in

the

background

there

is

_darkness_.


	3. Pain

**If you are moved, touched or simply like this poem review, share with a friend and post onto your profile. The next quote is: "I am not harmed by pain but numbed by it."**

A blow hits.

Starting from the point of contact, it rushes from the nerve and quickly spreads.

Racing to all areas of my body.

And then another.

Creeping from my spine and fanning out to my wingspan.

I fall forward onto my knees.

Sore and bruised my knees are.

Exhausted, my body practically is glued to the floor.

The heat from my body radiates onto the cool floor.

It feels reviving and comforting.

But I won't give up yet.

I feel no pain.

It is numbed by my determination.

Slowly and weakly I arise again.

Ready for another hit.

I would not cower.

I take it as it comes.

A kick forces me back down and I'm reunited with the floor.

Welts become one with my skin.

I no longer have that golden tan but a blue purple shade.

Blood trickles and soaks my clothes.

And yet I'm dry eyed.

I would not shed a tear.

You would not hear a whimper from me.

I do not break.

I won't give my punishers the satisfaction.

Any crack in my exterior is a victory for them.

The sadistic grins that loom over me.

Tormenting me. Feeding on my discomfort.

My pain.

But so do I.

As the pain becomes worse, I become stronger.

I turn my weaknesses into my advantages.

Every scar is a reminder of a lesson taught and learned.

The lessons of embracing the pain, laughing at it.

If it's not a threat don't make it one.

I feel no pain.

I no longer hurt.

My body becomes deaden.

My pain is welcomed.

My pain becomes me.


End file.
